


Early Days

by Aethelflaed



Series: Sawdust of Words [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Backstory, Canon Compliant, Chaptered, Character Development, Character Study, Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Dialogue, Dialogue Heavy, During Canon, Hopeful Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Long, M/M, Prequel, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 09:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Aethelflaed
Summary: In the Beginning, an angel and a demon met on the wall of the Garden of Eden.The next day, they really started getting on each other's nerves.With no orders, no direction, and no place to go, can they find a way to coexist?  Or at least get through a conversation without arguing?





	1. Day 2

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my fanfiction! "Early Days" will consist of four chapters and an epilogue, published weekly. Each chapter will cover a different day on the Wall of Eden.
> 
> I considered a few options for how to number the days, and decided the simplest was to count from the day Aziraphale and Crowley met - thus the story starts on Day 2, the day after the original scene in Eden.

DAY 2

It was a warm, sunny day. Aziraphale thought it might be the nicest day yet, weather wise, though there hadn’t been quite enough yet for a good sampling. He was rather amazed at how the rain had cleaned up the sky quite beautifully.

He wasn’t sure that the demon, Crawley, agreed. It was quite natural for a demon to be unable to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. After all, only a heart that was truly Open to the larger Concepts of Love and Goodness could find room for the smaller as well.

Aziraphale had been partway through explaining this when Crawley suddenly turned back into a snake and slithered off, grumbling to himself, which the angel though rather proved his point. But that left him without anyone to talk to, so he turned to the most important task for the day: closing the rather large crack in the wall of Paradise on Earth before his superiors asked too many questions.

Just as he was sliding the final stone into place, a pure light, warmer and brighter than the sun, lit the entire East Side of Eden…

\--

Crawley frowned, or at least he tried to. One disadvantage of being a snake was the limited range of facial expressions. Also, opposable thumbs, legs, really most things. But if you wanted a good frown, you really needed a human face.

As he slowly returned to his humanoid shape, Crawley considered how few choices he’d really made in his life. Angels, and even demons, weren’t very big on the whole “free will” concept. You followed God’s orders, or you rebelled by following Satan’s.

Well, he had a choice now, in a way. What to do with it?

His first thought was to go talk to the strange, pretentious angel on the East Gate. That was bizarre – Crawley didn’t generally go around _ wanting _ to talk to anyone. Demons didn’t do _ socialization _, especially not with…

At first, he’d thought Aziraphale wasn’t that bad; any angel who would just hand over his sword like that, well, he had to have a mind of his own, right?

But it turned out, that mind mostly seemed to be occupied by some tedious philosophy on the Nature of Good and Evil and the Righteousness of God’s Ineffable Plan. He’d only known the angel half a day, and already Crawley had been subjected to three lengthy lectures and the beginnings of a fourth, at which point he’d decided to see what was on the West Side of Eden (primarily: more sand).

Crawley’s own philosophy was much simpler: Life was generally better when there weren’t so many rules to muck things up.

Finally able to scowl properly, he continued his circuit of the land outside Eden. Maybe the North Side would show a little variety?

He managed to pass the North Side (additional sand) and was working his way towards Northeast (sand complemented by some lovely rocks), when the sky burst into an intense, burning holy light that nearly knocked him to the ground.

\--

Yes, human legs were much better for tearing across desert sand. Well, faster, at least – Crawley suspected the heat wouldn’t be as unpleasant to a snake. But changing back again would take time.

Suddenly, beyond the curve of the wall, he spotted the white robe – and hair, and face – of the angel, wandering along as if lost in thought. Crawley stopped abruptly, grabbing the jutting stones of the wall to keep from falling over. Snake body was certainly more maneuverable.

“Angel!” he snapped, mostly from exertion. “I thought you’d be gone.”

“Gone?” Aziraphale glanced up as if he hadn’t noticed Crawley’s approach. His eyes seemed a bit dazed. Perhaps he’d dropped one of those big rocks on his own head? “Why would I be gone?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Crawley said, waving his arm at the sky. “Big glowy happy light from above? Doesn’t that just scream ‘Angelic Superiors Come to Give New Orders’?”

“I suppose.” Aziraphale began walking again, and this time there was a distinct unsteadiness. “That wasn’t…exactly my superiors. It was the Almighty.”

Crawley had to scramble a bit in the loose sand to keep up, but he was getting the hang of this. “The Almighty? God actually came to talk to you, personally?”

Aziraphale managed a high-pitched noise that may have been “Mm-hmmm.”

“And? Was it new orders?”

“Mm.” This time the tone was indistinguishable, but Crawley caught a tiny head shake.

“So what – you’re not in trouble because of me, are you? What I did in the Garden?” As a demon, he was never bothered by the results of his Temptations, so the unpleasant twist in his stomach was probably vertigo from being bipedal so long. “I mean, there was no guard on the underside of that Garden. That’s practically an invitation to a demon. I could, uh, write a note? Explaining?” He was pretty sure Heaven was still big on notes and reports.

“No, that…that didn’t come up.” Aziraphale was certainly looking paler than usual, an impressive feat as his primary colors were white and cream. “She asked…asked about my sword…”

Crawley winced. “That didn’t take long. What’d you say?”

“I said…” Aziraphale took one more shuffling step, then seemed to forget the next. His eyes stared straight ahead in a sort of panicked wonder. “I said…I put it down…around here…somewhere.”

For the second time since meeting the angel, Crawley found himself speechless, his words wiped away by a flood of complex emotions that he couldn’t begin to name. “You…_ lied _?” He finally managed.

“N-no! I didn’t!”

“You lied to _ God _?”

“It – it wasn’t – I’m sure the humans are still around here. Possibly.”

“God asked you – an _ angel _ – a direct question, and _ you _ lied?”

“No it – I was just delaying until – I’m going to – stop laughing!”

Crawley couldn’t hold it in any longer. He howled with laughter, staggering back to lean against the Garden wall. He’d never, ever laughed like that, not in as long as he could remember. His sides were actually aching; he could feel tears gathering in his eyes. Between it all, he managed to gasp, “I don’t think you...Understand...I’m a demon and...And I’ve never...I don’t think I _ could _ ...Actually _ lie _ to actually _ God _. And you –”

Abruptly, Aziraphale’s knees buckled and he collapsed so quickly Crawley had to grab his arm to help lower him safely. Settling into the sand next to Aziraphale, he realized the angel’s face was now a picture of wretched misery. “Alright. I’m not laughing anymore, see?”

“I can’t do this. I feel awful. I’m going to have to tell – _ someone _ – the truth. It’s the only way.”

“Won’t that just get you into more trouble?” It turned out the angel’s face could get even more wretched. “Alright, what do I know? I’m just a demon.”

“That’s right.” Aziraphale managed something like wounded indignation that would never fool anyone except possibly himself. “Demons don’t know anything about the truth. You’ve probably never told the truth a day in your life.”

That was patently absurd, but Crawley let it go. “So, what, you’re going to call up one of your Archangels and confess? Only give me some warning, I don’t want to be around for that.”

“Oh, I don’t – don’t think there’s any call for that.” The angel’s eyes somehow grew even wider. “No – no, I can just…I’ll wait for them to contact me. For a report, or…or something.” For a moment, it seemed he was going to fall over again, even though he was already on the ground. “Yes, when they ask…I’ll say something…But in the meantime…if they don’t ask…that’s not _ lying _, is it?”

“These are your rules, angel, not mine.” Crawley found he couldn’t stop staring at Aziraphale’s face. It was as if every thought he had was written all over it. He wouldn’t survive five minutes in Hell. “Are you…more afraid of your superiors than of the Almighty?”

“Of course not!” The angel closed his eyes, clearly trying to gather himself. “It’s a question of…accountability… Anyway, technically, my orders are to guard the Eastern Gate. So long as I do that to the best of my ability, the sword itself is… superfluous.” Aziraphale nodded firmly and opened his eyes. “What? What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.” He actually seemed to believe his own argument. It was mind-boggling. “But I did just walk around this entire Garden. You’re the only angel still stationed here.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stared off across the sand. “I’m sure there’s supposed to be an angel on each Gate. There was this whole speech about proper defense formations before we arrived.”

“Ah, this proper defense formation,” Crawley thought back to what he’d seen on his way out of Hell, “it wouldn’t be four angels, spaced as far apart as possible, all facing away from the Garden, would it?”

“Something like that,” Aziraphale admitted reluctantly, clearly trying to figure out how Crawley planned to use this information. “Why?”

“Nnnn, nothing.” Crawley wondered who oversaw strategy in Heaven these days, and how big a demotion that angel was looking at right now. “It’s a fascinating bit of tactics. Very Ineffable.” He cleared his throat hard to keep from laughing. “But, obviously, the others have received their new orders already. Are you sure you don’t want to, I don’t know, make a call? Check in or something?”

“Certainly not,” Aziraphale gave him a cold look without much conviction behind it. “Eden needs someone to guard it. If there’s no one else here, clearly it’s up to me. I suppose you’re looking for another opportunity to slither back in.”

“I assure you, I am not,” Crawley said, raising his hands. He couldn’t think of a single thing he’d want from the Garden at this point, except perhaps a bit of shade. The morning had been hot enough, but with the sun now almost a third of the way up the sky, it was getting distinctly uncomfortable.

Aziraphale climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. “Well, it won’t work. It would appear that I’m now the Guardian of All the Gates. A sort of promotion. Probably a reward, for guarding the East Gate so well. And I shall continue my duties to the utmost of my abilities.” It appeared that he was back to his condescending self. “And now, I think…I think I’d like to go for a walk. See what else there is to see.”

Crawley scrambled up to follow. “It’s just sand, really. And to the northeast you can see sort of mountains in the distance.”

“Mountains?” Aziraphale’s eyes practically glowed.

“Well, yes – did you seriously never look in a different direction the whole time you were on that wall?”

“My orders were to watch East, so I looked East. And occasionally into the Garden itself,” he added, with an air of confessing a great indulgence. “But, if I’m the only one left, then logically, I should look in all directions, right? That’s not disobeying, that’s…extending my duty.”

After a second, Crawley realized the angel was waiting for some sort of confirmation. “Oh. Ah. Yes. Patrol in all directions. Look for suspicious characters and so on.”

Aziraphale smiled, briefly, face warm and eyes shining. Then he switched to something that was probably supposed to be a stern frown, but instead looked more like a pout, apparently deciding if Crawley counted as a suspicious character. “Let’s go look at these mountains. From a distance. While patrolling.”

It was going to be impossible to keep from laughing at the angel if he kept this attitude up, but Crawley found he was enjoying himself enough to try. Enough to walk beside Aziraphale as they headed North along the base of the wall.

\--

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he thought of Crawley. The demon was obviously a troublemaker – yesterday was certainly proof of that – and he had an unnerving habit of staring intensely at Aziraphale’s face with those unnatural slit-pupil eyes.

That was frightening enough. He’d heard rumors of what demons got up to in Hell. Well, rumors of rumors. Mostly vague suggestions. Whatever it was they did, it was Unpleasant and didn’t bear Thinking About. Still, Crawley didn’t seem threatening, just intense.

But there was something of Hell about him, in his dark robes and darker expressions. Even his smiles made Aziraphale uneasy. And there was the faint, but unmistakable, scent of brimstone in the air.

“Those are the mountains, then,” Aziraphale pointed at the hazy shapes on the horizon. Walking along the base of the wall had proven much more difficult than along the top, and he wished he had his wings for shade against the sun. Still, better to keep the demon down here. “I thought they’d be bigger. And less…indistinct.”

“They’re far away, Angel.” There was really no call for Crawley to sound so annoyed all the time. “Please tell me you understand that.”

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale said with as much dignity as he could muster. He’d already decided that half-truths didn’t count as lies, especially when told to a demon. Particularly a demon who wouldn’t stop smirking like a smug snake. “I just hoped they’d be closer. Obviously.”

“Eh, it’d probably take a day to walk there. Two at the most. Not bad, all things considered.” Crawley finally turned that intense gaze away, toward the mountains, giving Aziraphale a chance to study him secretly. Without his wings, there was nothing to indicate what Crawley truly was, apart from the eyes. He could have been just another angel.

Except he wasn’t an angel. He was Fallen.

Aziraphale turned his own eyes firmly to the mountains. “Well, a day or two is far enough. I’ll just have to enjoy them. From a distance.”

He felt that golden gaze on his face again, and struggled to keep his expression blank. “How long are you planning to wait here?”

“I’ve told you already.” He couldn’t just contact his superiors. Gabriel _ hated _ needing to clarify orders. A good angel knew what to do, and just did it. “I’ll be here for as long as the Garden needs to be guarded.” Very likely it wasn’t a _ reward. _ No, it was some sort of test. The Archangels had been big on _ testing _ since the Rebellion. But this, at least, was a Test he would pass easily.

There was only one other possible explanation. But no, that would mean Heaven had somehow already learned what happened to the sword. He was sure that was still a secret.

“So you’re going to stay here and walk in circles _ forever _?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Aziraphale tried a nonchalant laugh. That would need practice. “Wha-what else would I do?”

“There’s a whole world out there. Full of plants and animals and,” he waved his arm at the mountains, “big pointy rocks. Don’t you want to see it?” His voice wasn’t annoyed now, but low, almost hypnotic.

Aziraphale’s eyes turned toward Crawley, meeting that powerful gaze. Crawley’s eyes were more yellow than gold, the irises smaller than he remembered. More natural. He swayed ever so slightly as he stood there, back and forth. It reminded Aziraphale of something.

“Isn’t there anything that you’re curious about?”

For a moment, Aziraphale wondered. The Garden held a sampling of the life on Earth, but there was so much it didn’t contain. One of the other angels had mentioned the oceans, filled with creatures longer than the trees were tall. He’d like to see that, someday.

The demon still watched him with unblinking eyes, and now a faint smile as well.

The swaying. It reminded him of a serpent, about to strike.

“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale frowned sternly, which for some reason made Crawley grin even more widely. “You – you’re trying to Tempt me! Into Dereliction of Duty, no less!” He was shocked he had let his guard down so easily, had come so close to succumbing to the Wiles of the Evil One.

“Mmm, maybe? It barely counts,” Crawley shrugged, still smiling as if his Deception hadn’t been uncovered. “You’re supposed to protect the Garden from threats. I’m the only one here. So long as you keep an eye on me, you don’t need to be anywhere near the wall.”

Aziraphale considered that. “Are you suggesting…we go explore the world _ together _?”

“Eh, fair point, I didn’t really think that one through.”

“I’m sorry, but you _ are _ trying to Tempt me, aren’t you?”

Crawley scratched his head, tossing the deep red curls, and stared off into the sky. “Just making conversation, really. I suppose temptation is sort of my default.”

Aziraphale realized he’d taken a few steps back, putting some space between himself and the demon. He stood as tall as he could. “It won’t work on me!” He wished he sounded more convincing.

“Of course it won’t.” Crawley folded his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall, foul smirk back on his face. “I don’t know what you want. That’s the second rule of Temptation, by the way, _ always know what your target really wants. _”

“But isn’t Temptation about you getting me to do what _ you _ want?” Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t ask, but sometimes he found he couldn’t help himself.

“It is, but that’s what everyone gets wrong. Let’s say I want you to…eat one of those forbidden apples. Just as an example. I can stand here all day telling you how it would expand your mind, give you knowledge equal to God, and you’ll keep saying no, because none of that is what you want.”

“No…” He wasn’t sure where this was going. Was the demon digging for information? Aziraphale tried to keep his face blank, just in case.

“But, if I do know what you want, I can turn it around. Make what you want and what I want sound like the same thing. So I might try to convince you that eating that apple is the best way for you to follow orders.” Aziraphale was sure his expression didn’t change, but Crawley’s smirk grew anyway. “Or maybe not. Most keep what they _ really _ want very well hidden, so you have to dig for it.” His gaze shifted slightly, staring off into the sky again. “Some don’t even know what they really want.”

“Should you be telling me all this?”

Crawley blinked and straightened up, another broad smile plastered on his face. “Angel, I’m so good at what I do, I could tell you every secret I have, and you’d still fall for it every time.” He chuckled. “But there’s nothing I want today, so you’re safe. Unless you want to try an apple.” He raised his eyebrows.

“You can’t be…that is _ Forbidden_!”

“Forbidden for the humans.” Crawley shrugged. “You’re not at all curious?”

“No. _ No_, Crawley, that’s not something you should even joke about!”

“Fine.” Crawley held up his hands. “If you’re going to get all sensitive about it. No forbidden fruits. I just thought it might be nice to get out of the sun for a few minutes.”

“Out of the question. The Garden is certainly off-limits to the likes of _ you _.”

Crawley didn’t so much roll his eyes as his entire head. “What do you think I’m going to do? Tempt the squirrels? Trick them into eating some forbidden nuts?”

Aziraphale considered again what he’d heard about demons. “You might be targeting me. Looking to…corrupt the soul of an angel or something.”

The demon’s brow furrowed. “Ah, no. Hell has more corrupt angels than we know what to do with, I really don’t think we need another.”

“Well. Good.” Aziraphale tried sounding certain and authoritative again. “You would have no luck regardless. The Forces of Darkness are twisted, wicked things. Your Perverse Tricks will never work against one who is Pure and Dedicated to the Light.” It wasn’t his best, but he’d had a strange morning.

“Perverse Tricks?” Crawley leaned against the wall again, half-smile back in place, piercing gaze once more looking right through Aziraphale. “Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.”

“Tsk.” Some sort of sarcastic joker on top of everything else. “Are all demons like you?”

The eyes narrowed slightly. “I take it you didn’t know anyone who Fell.”

“Naturally.” Aziraphale smoothed his robes. “I never _ associated _ with such people.”

Crawley scowled across the desert. “We should all be so lucky,” he muttered, which Aziraphale thought must be more sarcasm of some kind.

“What…” There was one question that had been bothering him. He’d already asked too many, but Crawley seemed to be in an answering mood. “What was your crime? The one you Fell for?” All the demons had Rebelled, of course, but each one had a crime, an inciting incident that marked them for punishment.

Crawley’s face grew hard. “Now I _ know _ you didn’t know any of us. You never, _ ever _ ask a demon that.”

“Why not?” He tried to imitate Gabriel’s authoritative tone when he asked for a report. “As an angel, I need to know the kind of person I’m associating wi –”

He never saw Crawley move – suddenly the demon was right in front of him, one hand clutching the front of Aziraphale’s robes. His heart raced, every muscle froze in place. The smell of brimstone surrounded him.

“Why not?” The demon whispered dangerously. “Because the answer to that question would break your tiny mind.”

Aziraphale tried to say something, anything to calm him down or frighten him off, but all he could manage was a high-pitched noise.

Suddenly, he was released. “Relax, Angel. I’m not going to hurt you.” Crawley stalked off, then turned back, spreading his arms wide. “You know what? This is my fault. ‘Oh, he doesn’t seem so bad, let’s try talking, since we’re both stuck here.’ But I’m not the one who’s stuck. Have a nice eternity, Angel.” And he walked straight into the desert.

“W-wait! Where are you going?” Aziraphale had a sinking feeling he’d made a mistake, as usual.

“Finding out what’s over here.”

“Fine!” Aziraphale clenched his fists. “Good riddance! I don’t want to see you lurking around my wall again!”

Crawley just waved without looking back and disappeared behind a sand dune. A moment later, a serpent shape emerged, writhing across the sand.

“That could have gone better,” sighed Aziraphale, heading back to the East Gate.


	2. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three days of wandering in the desert, Crawley is back, with a head full of thoughts he doesn't know what to do with. Can he convince the pretentious angel guarding the wall of Eden to help him talk through them? What could be bothering a demon, anyway?
> 
> Meanwhile, Azirphale begins to show signs of stress from his solo assignment...

  
  


DAY 5

\--

Aziraphale stood atop the Garden wall, watching South. He’d divided up the day into sections, spending a certain amount of time looking in each direction. Next he would move to look East, where he spent the largest portion of his day.

It was a good system. He’d devised it himself, lacking more specific orders, and was rather proud. He’d also replaced his absent sword with a long, straight branch he’d found in the Garden. He thought the staff made him look quite dignified.

“Oi, Angel! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Aziraphale attempted a stern frown, backed by all the gravity of his office. The demon Crawley – a black-robed, red-haired shape rounding the base of the wall fifty feet below – just gave a cheerful wave. “Still waiting to hear from your superiors, then?”

“I am Protecting the Garden from Miscreants and Agents of the Enemy,” Aziraphale explained coldly, stretching his white wings to emphasize his authority. “None may approach without my leave.”

“Really? Because I just walked all the way around this Garden, and you had no idea I was here.”

The angel ground his teeth and tried to ignore that, as well as the wily serpent’s smug grin, somehow visible even at this great height. “Demon Crawley, you are Forbidden to ever enter the Garden again. Begone, Foul Fiend.”

Crawley seemed to consider this a moment. “Or what?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What are you actually going to do if I try to enter the Garden? Hit me with your stick?”

Aziraphale didn’t like that grin at all. He strongly suspected Crawley wasn’t taking his Angelic Moral Authority seriously. He wracked his brain for a threat he could actually carry through if pushed. “You are Forbidden to enter this Garden or…or…or else I’ll never talk to you again.”

Somehow this did not cow the demon into submission, but Crawley did raise his hands placatingly. “Fine, Angel. If it’s that important, I promise I’ll never enter the Garden.” He waited until Aziraphale nodded, then shuffled his feet innocently. “Of course, it is hard to carry on a conversation like this. You know. Shouting up the wall. I don’t suppose I’m allowed up there?”

“Absolutely not.” Aziraphale still wasn’t sure what Crawley wanted, but thought it best to assume anything he suggested was an Evil Plot to be Thwarted. “I can’t have an Agent of the Enemy loose on the wall.”

“Hmm. And you couldn’t possibly come down here. Someone has to keep an eye on all this sand, make sure no Miscreants are hiding in it.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, that is a pity. Considering I brought you something.”

“You…you brought something…for me?” Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d said that part loud enough to carry, but it had rather thrown him off his stride. Clearing his throat, he shouted back down: “I thought you were angrily exploring the Northeast.”

“I got bored. Look, see? Peace offering.” He waved something in his hand that Aziraphale couldn’t make out. “Thought you could use a little variety up there.”

Aziraphale considered this, then shouted uncertainly, “Are you…trying to apologize?”

“No!” Crawley looked downright offended. “I’m a  _ demon _ ! We don’t  _ apologize _ !” Aziraphale could imagine the scowl he must be giving. “And I had every right to be angry. But…I figure, you’ve also got every right to ask questions, even stupid ones. So we’re even.”

As an angel, Aziraphale was supposed to be able to forgive freely, but he wasn’t sure if that applied to demons. Particularly demons who refused to actually apologize. But he found he was intrigued. “What did you bring?”

Crawley considered the object in his hand, then threw it as high as he could, snapping his fingers. It flew straight upward, then jerked and hovered right in front of Aziraphale’s face.

It was an uneven sphere, mostly dull red with yellow-green patches, one of which had a few tiny brown speckles. Carefully taking it in hand, Aziraphale found it was firm, but with a soft patch under one finger. It wasn’t exactly the same, but he’d seen this before. In the Garden.

“This is an apple!” He thrust his arm accusingly at the tiny figure of the demon below. “How did you get this? You were in the Garden!”

“No, I wasn’t! It’s just a perfectly ordinary fruit. There’s a bunch of trees, over in the mountains, covered in them. Totally mundane.”

“Why would you bring one back?”

“I don’t know. Thought you might be curious what the big deal over some fruit is. I know I am.”

Curious? No, of course not. Angels weren’t  _ curious _ , they just followed orders.  _ Curiosity _ led to things like  _ questions _ and  _ improvisation _ and  _ extremely long and degrading lectures that made you feel three inches tall. _ He threw the apple as far as he could, South over the desert.

Aziraphale thought he’d managed a good distance with his throw, but Crawley just snapped his fingers, and the fruit flew back to his hand. Looking deliberately at Aziraphale, he took a bite.

The angel held his breath, waiting for the Wrath of Heaven to Smite the treacherous demon. Nothing happened.

“S’not bad,” Crawley called up. “Sort of juicy and dry at the same time. Tart, maybe? You sure you don’t want some?”

“Are you finished? Or do you want to continue wasting my time?”

“Oh, is there somewhere else you need to be? Am I keeping you from an appointment?” More completely unnecessary sarcasm, of course.

“I have my…obligation.” He spread his wings to indicate the wall. It didn’t seem like a strong argument.

“Angel – !” Crawley took another bite of the apple and chewed it angrily. When he spoke again, his shouted tone seemed a little less annoyed. “Look, I just walked all the way to those mountains and back, and I had a lot of time to think. Now I have a head full of thoughts that I don’t know what to do with. Can we just…talk?” He held out his hand. “Just talk. You’ll probably enjoy it, too, Aziraphale.”

The angel turned away. He had to continue his patrol, and it was past time to be heading toward the East Gate. This conversation was a distraction. He needed to focus on his duty, on counting his footsteps, memorizing the pattern of the dunes, listening to the wind for the slightest hint of anyone approaching…

There had been no one for three days.

He leaned back out over the wall. “Do you think you could tell me about those mountains?”

Crawley just grinned.

\--

Crawley hadn’t laughed at the angel at all. Frankly, he deserved an  _ award _ for not laughing. Not even when Aziraphale was walking along the base of the wall toward him, trying to look so self-important as he nearly tripped himself with that ridiculous branch.

Not laughing was surely one of the most difficult things Crawley had ever done.

If he was being perfectly honest, Crawley hadn’t been very impressed by the mountains. At first, it had been easier to walk on the stable stone than on the sand (he was still switching back and forth between snake and humanoid), but the ground had just kept going up and up. Very hard on the legs, mountains. And the short grass and twisted, stunted trees had been a far cry from the rich forests in Eden.

The view had been nice, though, even if it was mainly sand on one side and more mountains on the other, a thousand shades of brown. He tried to emphasize that in his description, for Aziraphale’s sake.

“And that’s when I picked the apple. I thought, ‘Well, there’s some irony for you,’ and brought it back.” He’d had to stay in his human form the whole time – snakes can’t really carry apples. That had also been annoying at first, but he thought he had the hang of walking bipedally now. His neck still felt weird, though, and he kept trying to look further over his shoulder than was actually possible.

Aziraphale stood before him, clutching that branch with both hands so tightly that Crawley was waiting for it to snap. The angel’s face was beaming, actually  _ beaming _ , with far more excitement than the description really deserved. “Oh! Oh, I do wish I could see something like that.”

“Really?” Maybe the angel was just very easily impressed? “I mean, yes, it was…something. So is that what you want? To walk around and see…things?”

“Oh, I-I couldn’t. Orders, you know. I just wish there was more of a view from here.” Aziraphale turned to face the desert, Southward, though Crawley suspected it was just an excuse to avoid his eyes.

Crawley glanced over his left shoulder at the sand dunes. The sun was just past its highest point, and everything was sharp and bright. You would expect it to be the hottest part of the day, but he’d learned it could get a lot hotter before suddenly plummeting to unbearable cold. It made him miss those rain clouds, but he hadn’t seen any in days. No wings to shade himself, either, not for him or the angel; reality was too  _ real _ once you got off the wall.

He turned back to Aziraphale, trying again. “If you’re going to stay here, then, you could indulge a little. What’s the point in guarding Eden if you’re not going to enjoy it? Look at the Garden once in a while. Maybe even walk in it. Eat some fruit. Aren’t you curious?”

“Curious? No, no certainly not.” He bit his lip and looked every direction but towards Crawley. “And I do look in the Garden. On occasion. To rest my eyes – it helps keep me alert. But that’s all I need.”

“So, that’s it then? You want to stay on the wall? Watch the desert for the next thousand years? I mean it, Angel. If you had a choice, where would you go? What would you do?” There was a note of urgency creeping into Crawley’s voice, which he quickly cut off.

“Choice? What do you mean?” The angel’s eyes darted to him uncertainly. “Why would I have a choice? Is this some sort of trick?”

“How the Heaven would this be a trick? I just asked you a question.”

He tilted the branch so that it ran between them. “You did say the first rule of Temptation was to find what the target really wanted. Perhaps you are trying to Tempt me after all.”

“Second rule, not the first – oh, never mind.” Crawley slumped against the wall’s edge, staring across the sand. “It’s not a trick. It’s about my orders.”

“ _ Your _ orders?” Aziraphale slowly sat on Crawley’s right-hand side, laying the branch on the ground beside him. “I didn’t think…weren’t you just supposed to make trouble? Trouble achieved, I’d say.”

“Nnnh. I suppose.” He bent one leg so he could rest his elbow on it. So many  _ limbs _ to keep track of. He didn’t really want to talk about the next part, but Aziraphale waited quietly until he admitted, “I was contacted. A couple of days ago, just before you were. High ranking demon called Hastur came to see me in the desert.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Crawley raised an eyebrow and Aziraphale blushed, but neither one commented on this obvious lapse in the angel’s alleged duty.

“Yes, well, turns out they were all really impressed with the whole fruit thing downstairs. Only a few minutes of work and the humans are thrown out of the Garden, God’s apparently unforgivably angry – they’re waiting to see how it plays out, but some are saying the whole of humanity’s been turned to our side, forever.”

Aziraphale did not look happy with this assessment. “I refuse to believe all that. If it were truly hopeless, God would have…would have…” He waved his arms helplessly, expression a picture of misery. “Well, She would have  _ said _ something at least,” he finished lamely.

“Really? You expect God to personally fill you in on these details?”

“It just seems…too much.”

Crawley suspected he knew more about the Almighty’s history of fantastic overreactions than Aziraphale did. But it was probably best for both their sakes not to bring that up again.

“I’m sure the Great Plan accounts for this,” the angel finally said, slowly but with growing confidence. “It’s just too…Ineffable…for us to understand.”

“Ugh, don’t start that again,” Crawley groaned. “Ineffable or not, my superiors think they’ve cracked this bit of the Plan, at least. They told me I can return to great honor and…well, what passes for celebration in Hell.”

“Oh. Um.” He seemed unsure how to take this. “Congratulations?”

“Or, I can stay up here. And they’re eager to see what I come up with next.”

Aziraphale spun so fast he nearly lost his balance. “They…they gave you a  _ choice _ ?”

“Mostly, I think I caught them off-guard, succeeding so fast.” Crawley couldn’t sit any longer. He’d been brimming with nervous energy since Hastur had left. He’d thought going all the way to the mountains and back had cured it, but here he was again. He stood up and started pacing. “So now I can choose. Hell or Earth.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinked, trying to absorb the concept. “Which do you want?”

“Angel, I can’t even decide if I want to be in this body or the snake!” He kicked furiously at the sand. “I mean, you can’t do  _ that _ as a snake, and the hair certainly presents some interesting possibilities, but it feels so strange and…” He sat down next to Aziraphale again, letting his head slam against the wall. “How do you even know when you’ve decided?”

“Not sure.” The angel stared into the distance. “The biggest choice I’ve ever made was whether to start my patrol by turning left or right. I chose right, by the way,” he offered helpfully.

“Is that so?” demanded Crawley, crossing his arms. “What about giving your sword to the humans?”

“That wasn’t a choice. That was… Following my Angelic Instincts, which lead unerringly to the Right Thing.” Crawley shot him a glare, while the angel tried to stare confidently ahead. After a moment, he seemed to feel something more was required. “Also, I was never told  _ not _ to give the sword to the humans. Doing so was a Creative Reinterpretation in the case of an Unforeseen Emergency. No, wait,” he stood and paced a bit, holding the stick. “More of a Spur-of-the-Moment, umm. Hmm.”

“Right. Keep working on that defense.” What a waste of time. Crawley started to climb to his feet again, ready to storm off. He was angry at the angel, angry at Hastur, and furious at himself for ever starting this conversation.

“Wait, stop, don’t go.” Aziraphale stood right in front of him, holding that stupid branch as if ready to push Crawley back down with it. There wasn’t room to stand, but Crawley seriously considered turning back into a snake and biting him. Or just biting him like this. That wasn’t really his style, though, so he slumped back. “We just need to think this through. If we use logic, and consider  _ your _ instincts, we should be able to find the right thing to do.” He frowned. “Or the wrong thing? Since you’re a demon – that’s not important!” Aziraphale held up the branch again as Crawley made another attempt to escape.

“Fine, fine! Just get that tree limb out of my face.” He glared as the angel moved to a more comfortable distance. “What’s in this for you anyway?”

“That’s a very  _ demonic _ way of thinking about this,” Aziraphale sniffed. “I’m an angel. It’s your nature to Deceive and Make Trouble, and mine to…bring Assistance and Peace.” Crawley thought he was hiding something; the angel was smiling far too much.

“Whatever. Just ask your questions – and  _ nothing _ about before the Fall, or I’m leaving.”

“I wasn’t going to.” But the disappointment was clear all over his face. Why he even  _ bothered _ trying to lie was beyond Crawley; did he not  _ know _ how obvious it was? Aziraphale settled next to him, hands folded in his lap, tree branch on his far side. “I suppose we start with the obvious. Do you  _ want _ to go back to Hell?”

“Eugh.” Crawley had been shifting his legs, trying to get more comfortable, and the question caught him off guard.

“There, see? You clearly don’t want to, so that’s one possibility eliminated.”

“Angel, if it were that easy, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Well, then, what makes this hard?”

“I don’t know. I probably should just go back.”

“Crawley…”

“I do not want to have this conversation, Angel.” It was hard to suppress a shudder at the thought of it. “Have you ever been to Hell? I didn’t think so. You’d need a very good reason to even consider it.” Aziraphale spread his hands, waiting. “Fine. It’s…politics, mostly.”

Crawley looked at those eager, helpful eyes and decided right then he could never try to explain the nature of Hell to that angel. The callous way demons tortured and destroyed each other – for insulting someone, or looking at them the wrong way, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The only way to survive was to be sure someone powerful would be annoyed if you died, and even that was no guarantee.

To make matters worse, Crawley didn’t really get on with other demons. He didn’t always think the same way they did. Somehow, he managed to survive the Fall, as well as the seemingly endless fight for supremacy that followed it. But when the dust settled, he’d had no allies, none who wouldn’t happily shred his soul for a laugh, anyway.

The angel had probably never faced anything worse than a disapproving look from an Archangel. Crawley could never make him understand, and he found he didn’t want to. Let Aziraphale believe whatever he wanted; it was probably better.

“Yeah. Politics. If I go back now, I can use this…victory to sort of…gain allies. And advance myself to…a more secure location.” That was accurate enough.

“Well, that seems important.” Aziraphale nodded, probably trying to look wise. “And if you go to the humans?”

“I don’t know. Anything could happen.” He shook his head angrily. “I mean, what do they expect me to do? Just slither up to them again? ‘Hey, it’s your old friend, Crawley the Snake! Got any other rules we can break?’ They’ll never fall for it twice.”

“I’m sure you can think of something. You said you were very good at Temptation.”

Crawley eyed him suspiciously, but as far as he could tell, the angel had yet to discover sarcasm. “First, I’m not  _ very good _ at Temptation, I am  _ amazing _ at it. And second,” he shrugged. “I don’t know. That whole thing with the apples was luck as much as anything else. I’ll never get that lucky again.” He leaned back against the wall, staring at the sky. “I  _ shouldn’t _ throw away my chance to…improve my standing. Not without something to gain.”

Oddly, this whole talking thing seemed to be working. He felt on the cusp of…something.

“Well,” Aziraphale nodded as he considered everything. “Obviously, I can’t condone you making trouble for the humans. Out of favor they may be, but you’d only make things worse. And returning to Hell doesn’t seem appealing. So…” He smiled excitedly and presented his solution. “You can stay here. I’ll keep an eye on you while I guard the wall, to keep you out of trouble, and when my superiors come back, I can…put in a good word for you.” He beamed proudly.

“A good – ” The absolute absurdity of the idea hit like a blow to the stomach. “You cannot tell me you actually think that would mean anything.” He shot to his feet, glaring into Aziraphale’s wide, hurt eyes with furious intensity. “What would I want with a ‘good word’ in Heaven? You think I want to go back to those…those arrogant, self-righteous  _ bastards _ ?”

“Is that really what you think of angels?” Aziraphale stood up more slowly, genuinely looking as though he might cry. “When you said you didn’t want to return to Hell, I thought…”

“Of course I don’t want to return to Hell. It’s  _ Hell _ , Angel. Eternal torment for my sins.” He strode toward Aziraphale, who shrank back, practically cowering against the wall, no sign of his earlier pretentious attitude. Crawley jabbed a finger at his chest. “I’m a demon. It’s what I am. And I have no desire to be  _ anything _ else.”

“I only wanted to help – ”

“You wanted to help yourself.” Crawley slammed a hand against the wall. “You think you’re being punished for giving up your sword, but if you guard this wall, protect this Garden, resist  _ any  _ desire to enjoy yourself even the  _ tiniest bit,  _ turn a demon to the side of good, Heaven’s, what, just going to forgive you? Take you back, no questions asked? Reward you for Excellence in Obedience?”

“No! I mean – that is – ” Aziraphale looked everywhere but at Crawley’s eyes, but the guilt was clear on his face.

“And the truth is, it doesn’t matter,” Crawley snarled. A part of him wanted to stop, but the words kept coming. “No one else is ever coming to this Garden again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the humans are never coming back. I mean, Hell has no interest in an empty Garden, and Heaven could ‘protect’ it by just taking it out of reality. I mean, you aren’t here as a reward, or a test, or even a punishment – you’re here because your superiors  _ forgot about you _ . There’s no one coming to invade, no one coming to relieve you, and no new orders. Just you, and me. And I don’t have to be here.”

Once again, Crawley turned and marched into the desert, leaving the angel spluttering indignantly behind him. This time, he didn’t even try to shout anything clever as he walked away.

It was a big world. He could go wherever he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Also thanks go to my betareader kindathewholepoint - for spotting my typos, and for the encouragement!
> 
> Chapter 3 will be posted on August 31, and I hope to see you back then. Please comment below, and look for me on tumblr (aethelflaedladyofmercia). Thanks again!


	3. Day 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawley returns once more to the Wall of Eden, in his foulest mood yet, and with no interest in speaking to the angel stationed there. It's up to Aziraphale to find a way to bridge the rift between them, and try to get Crawley to open up.
> 
> Will Crawley finally make his choice - Earth or Hell? And what will Aziraphale do?

DAY 15

\--

Aziraphale slowly made his way along the base of the West wall. Up ahead, a dark shape huddled in the last bit of shadow as the sun reached its zenith.

He caught himself wringing his hands, and forced them to his sides. He was sure he recognized the figure now, but that didn’t make him less anxious. Fixing his brightest, most genuine smile, he walked briskly over.

“Crawley! I see you’re back again.”

“Nh.” The demon’s slit-pupil gaze didn’t budge from the distant horizon. This was the third time Aziraphale had tried to talk to him after one of his journeys – not counting that first one, ten days ago – and that was the most response he’d gotten yet.

“You know, I’d really like to know what you saw.” Crawley pulled back a little further into the diminishing shade. “It gets very dull up there. On the wall. I’m sure you must have so many stories to tell about – ”

“Sand.” Crawley didn’t turn his eyes or head, but grimaced in distaste.

“Sorry?” Aziraphale asked encouragingly, his heart leaping with hope.  _ Finally! He’s said something! _

“Sand, Angel. Every direction I walk. South – sand. North – sand. Southeast – sand. The Almighty built a whole world and filled it – with sand.”

“Oh, that can’t be true!”

“Really? You see anything else from that wall?” Abruptly, Crawley turned his eyes on Aziraphale, that penetrating glare nearly pushing him back a step.

Forcing his hands back to his sides once more, Aziraphale tried to speak calmly. “No, but before I arrived, I saw…plans. Large bodies of water. Forests. Something called a fjord. They must be out there somewhere.”

Crawley gave something between a snarl and a snort and turned back to the horizon again, arms crossed over his knees.

Trying not to lose momentum, Aziraphale stepped closer. “So, which way will you go next?”

Crawley snapped his fingers and pointed right, over Aziraphale’s shoulder, while still looking straight ahead. “That way. Northwest. I’ll leave as soon as it’s dark, don’t get your wings in a twist.”

“Why wait so long?” Usually, Crawley lurked around for a few hours before heading in a new direction, but this time he’d stay for more than half a day.

“It’s bright.”

“The sun’s never bothered you before.”

“Well, right now, it’s annoying me as much as you are.” Lurching to his feet, Crawley marched north along the wall until he found a spot with a tiny edge of shade left, and sank into it.

_ I should probably just leave. _ He studied that unreadable expression – the jaw tight, the brow furrowed, yellow eyes staring unblinkingly West.  _ He’s just a demon. You don’t need to care. _

He did care. He couldn’t just stand by while someone was in pain. Not even a demon.

Abandoning what passed for subtlety, Aziraphale marched over and planted himself directly in the line of that serpent gaze. He turned on his most brilliant smile and said, “Well. After Northwest, that will be all the major directions. Except one.”

Crawley narrowed his eyes. “There’s loads of directions. East-north-west. South-south-east. Probably some that don’t even have names yet.”

“And you’re going to go, what, a hundred miles each way? And back? That would take, oh,  _ such _ a long time.”

Crawley was suddenly on his feet again, towering over Aziraphale despite not being that much taller. Those inscrutable eyes inches from his. “So?” he hissed.

“So you’ve already wasted fourteen days since you got your ord-”

There was no time to react. Crawley grabbed the front of his robe and spun him back against the wall. Aziraphale couldn’t get away. His heart leapt into his throat and stayed there. The demon stood nearly nose-to-nose with him. He could smell the sickening scent of Hell – brimstone and ashes – and feel the hot breath on his cheek.

“That’s nothing to do with you,  _ Angel _ . Why can’t you just stay out of my business?”

Aziraphale had to swallow a few times before he could speak. He couldn’t remember – did snakes’ pupils go wide before they attacked, or was that lions? Crawley’s were still narrow, possibly a good sign? “B-because you were right,” he finally managed. “You came to me for help and – and I just thought about myself.” If anything Crawley looked even more angry. Aziraphale shut his eyes and shouted – squeaked – “I’m not a very good angel! I’m sorry!”

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the grip on his robes was gone. Aziraphale opened his eyes to find Crawley had moved a few steps back down the wall, leaning one shoulder against it and studying his face intently. “Angel. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Aziraphale tried to regain his composure. Straightening his robes, he attempted a smile. He gave that up quickly. Not quite ready to try it yet.

Crawley continued to stare, until Aziraphale wondered what he could see. “I already told you I wouldn’t. Did you think I lied?”

Briathos used to grab him like that, back during the Rebellion. When he’d been slow to charge, or reluctant to take the front line. When he'd shown signs of cowardice. “You’re a demon,” he said as evenly as he could, trying another smile. This one nearly worked. “You might, I don’t know, change your mind.”

“Is that what you think of me?” For once, he didn’t look angry, or smug, or annoyed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that expression was. “I know I get angry but…you don’t have to be so skittish.”

“You… That is, I…” Aziraphale remembered the last dressing-down he’d received from Gabriel on the subject. How Aziraphale was weak. Soft. Not good enough to join his cohort protecting the border of Heaven. Needed to toughen up for the battlefield that would be life on Earth.

Gabriel hadn’t been  _ really _ angry, of course – the lecture had been delivered in his usual warm, personable tones, not one of his rare-but-terrifying shouting sessions – and Aziraphale had brought it on himself for asking the wrong sort of question. Specifically,  _ if the Rebellion is over, why do we still spend all our time preparing to fight? _

That was probably the question that had landed him this duty.

“Are you feeling alright? You’re looking sort of…blanched.”

Aziraphale swallowed and pushed the memory away. It wasn’t easy. Even if Gabriel hadn’t raised his voice, Aziraphale still hadn’t wanted to speak to anyone for two days.

“No, it’s alright. I’m just…naturally jumpy. I don’t like confrontation.”

“Makes you an odd choice for wall guard, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, you know,” this time the smile hardly felt forced at all. “Mysterious ways and all that.”

“Now the duty roster is Ineffable?”

“You really shouldn’t joke about such things,” Aziraphale admonished, managing two steps closer. Crawley was just out of arm’s reach now. That should be safe.

“Who’s joking?” The demon shrugged and turned to the horizon again. “It’s the same way I got here. Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Really? I’d have thought you’d, I don’t know, volunteered?”

“Well, I may have tried really hard to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” For just a second, Aziraphale saw the edge of a smile, before it was hidden by a scowl again. “I thought being on Earth would be fun.”

“Yes, it was rather more enjoyable when the humans were here.” Realizing that might be a sore point, Aziraphale rushed ahead. “But I have something for you. Up on the wall.” Crawley started to pull back, but Aziraphale closed the distance, putting a hand (hardly shaking at all) on his shoulder. “I won’t try to keep you past sunset if you still want to go. Oh, please, Crawley.”

The demon sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine, Angel. What is it?”

_ Good enough! _ “Follow me. This way!”

\--

Crawley wasn’t sure why the angel was suddenly  _ allowing _ him to be on the wall, but he was grateful to have his wings back. He stretched, then raised them over his head for shade. After ten days of wandering in the desert, the sun was starting to annoy him. Everything was, the whole blasted world.

His eyes drifted to the right, where he could see into the Garden. The infinite variety of greens was a shock after days of wandering through the endless yellow-brown desert, looking for – something. He wasn’t sure what, and that perhaps annoyed him more than anything else.

Almost anything. Crawley’s eyes drifted a little further right to the angel, walking at his side with that blissfully oblivious smile. After the last time, he’d sworn he was done – but every two days, he found himself drawn back to the wall again.

Back to Aziraphale.

“Here we are!” Aziraphale beamed at him, the genuine delight on his face fighting to hold back the wariness Crawley could still see in his eyes. “What do you think?”

Crawley stared at the walkway ahead of them in confusion. Across the immaculately swept stones, Aziraphale had placed several large, flat leaves and covered them with heaps of small fruits.

“Do you like it?”

Crawley slowly walked around the leaves to the other side, looking for any hint of what he was supposed to be  _ liking _ or  _ not liking _ here.

The angel knelt and began gesturing to the piles. “The red and light green ones are called  _ grapes _ , and over here these sort of black ones are  _ olives _ . And these seeds here are wheat grains, which I thought looked really promising, but mostly they hurt my teeth, so they’re just decoration.”

Crawley stared at the fruit, then at Aziraphale’s glowing face, then back to the leaves. Finally, he gave up. “Angel, what  _ is _ this?”

“If I’m correct, the humans call this a _ meal _ .” He gestured to the wall at Crawley’s feet. “Sit. We will share it.”

“Why? Neither of us needs to eat.”

“It’s not about needing to eat, it’s…” His hands fluttered as if trying to grasp the words out of the air. “It’s about enjoying the flavor of the food, having a conversation. It’s a social ceremony.” He sighed, and his smile slipped a little, showing the uncertainty behind it. “Please? It’s like you said, we’re on Earth, we might as well enjoy it a bit.”

Crawley groaned reluctantly, but knelt beside the leaves. “Fine. Probably beats sitting next to the wall, staring into the desert.”

He tried to study Aziraphale’s face, but the angel’s eyes kept darting back down to the fruits. “Try the red ones, Crawley, they’re my favorite.”

Crawley picked one up and rolled it between his fingers. “Where did you…are these from the Garden?”

“Yes.” There was a touch of guilt on the angel’s face, but he resolutely picked up an olive. “I thought a lot about what you said. There’s nothing in the Garden specifically forbidden to me, and if the humans aren’t allowed back in, there’s no harm in taking some enjoyment from it.” He popped the olive into his mouth and started chewing. His eyes grew wide and he coughed slightly, grimacing. “Mind the pits.” He pulled a small stone out of his mouth, then threw it off the edge of the wall, into the Garden.

“You thought about what I said? I was pretty angry for some of that.”

“Oh, yes. But you don’t have to apologize. I understand that as a demon you must have very little understanding of the Great Plan. If it calls for me to watch over an empty Garden for an indeterminate number of years, well, as an angel, I’m happy to do my part.”

It took almost more discipline than Crawley possessed to stop himself from throwing the grape at Aziraphale’s thick head.  _ Every time I think you might actually be able to think for yourself… _ He bit the grape in half and chewed sullenly. “Not bad.” Aziraphale nodded in what was probably meant to be an encouraging way. “Fine, what do you want to talk about? Should I start describing all the exciting sand dune shapes I’ve seen?”

Aziraphale shifted as if trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. “I’d like you to tell me about… yourself.”

“Ah…”  _ What kind of question is that? _ “My name is Crawley?” he hazarded. “I’m a demon? Usually a snake, but I’m trying this human body out?”

“No, I mean, what do you like?”

“Demons don’t really  _ like _ things.” Crawley fell silent, staring down at the green leafy roof of the Garden. They continued to eat without saying anything for a long time. Now and then, he would glance at the angel, to find Aziraphale wearing a look of utterly unconvincing patience.

Finally, Crawley gave in. “I like the red grapes more than the green, I think?”

“Yes, they are quite sweet,” Aziraphale agreed, as if there had never been a lull in the conversation.

“And…I like the breeze coming off the Garden. It isn’t sandy.”

“Absolutely. It’s so refreshingly cool, especially in the afternoon.” Aziraphale stretched his wings back, letting the breeze comb through his white feathers.

Crawley tried an olive, and immediately spit it back into his hand. “I  _ don’t _ like these. It’s like something  _ died _ in my  _ mouth _ .”

“It’s not that bad,” Aziraphale frowned, popping another in his mouth. “I find them quite bracing. You just have to prepare yourself first.”

“Alright, clearly I’m not very good at this.” Crawley threw the remains of the olive off the wall.

“No, it just takes a little getting used to. I think the key is  _ not _ to mix the flavors. There’s too much contrast.”

“Not that, you idiot.” Crawley turned until he was facing Aziraphale, not the Garden. “I mean the conversation. I’m not good at it, so you go first.”

“Me?” The olive tumbled out of his fingers and rolled to the edge of the wall, plummeting into the trees below.

“Yes. What do you like? What sort of angel are you?”

“Oh! I – I...” He hurriedly grabbed several grapes and ate them without seeming to notice what he was doing. “Just a normal angel, really. Obedient. Quiet. Doing my part. For the cause.”

“Aziraphale.” The angel cringed slightly. “Do you want me to list all the reasons I know that’s a lie, or do you just want to skip to the part where you tell me why you said you’re not a very good angel?”

“I didn’t mean to say that part out loud.”

“Well, you did. So tell me what you meant.”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to sit silently, staring at an olive in one hand and a grape in the other as if trying to remember which was which. Crawley didn’t think he could fake as much patience as the angel had for him. But every time he considered taking it back, dropping the subject, he remembered Aziraphale’s face at the base of the wall, and decided to wait just a little longer.

“It’s nothing specific, really,” Aziraphale started slowly. “It’s just that everything I do tends to go a little wrong. When I try to follow orders as given, I make mistakes. When I ask questions to understand them better, Gabriel lectures me for too much original thought. Ah. I didn’t fight fiercely enough against the Rebellion. Most of my platoon thinks I’m a little strange.” He raised the olive to his lips, but kept staring into the distance. “It’s my own fault, really. I’m no good at  _ war  _ and  _ tactics.  _ My superiors are very…helpful about correcting me, though they can get quite annoyed. I had hoped this guard duty would be a chance to prove myself, but…” Aziraphale bit into the olive, then promptly spat it out, eyes wide with shock. “I thought that was the grape.”

He looked so disgusted that Crawley had to struggle not to laugh. As for the rest… “What sort of questions do you ask?”

Aziraphale looked genuinely embarrassed, about more than just the olive. “Let me think.  _ Why is the wall around Eden fifty feet tall? What are we trying to keep out that a ten-foot wall couldn’t do? _ Or  _ Why only  _ one _ man and  _ one _ woman? What happens if they don’t like each other? _ Oh,  _ Why is it called the East Gate of Eden when it’s clearly a blank wall with no opening in it whatsoever?  _ Those sorts of things. Gabriel says I worry too much about the details, but the big picture seems fine to me. It’s the little things that get my attention.”

_ Well, that’s one difference between us _ , Crawley mused. The questions he’d asked had never been about details. But that was a dangerous line of thought. “You know, Gabriel is an ass.” He considered the remaining fruit and decided to try another olive, properly prepared this time. “You shouldn’t listen to him.”

“He’s my direct superior,” Aziraphale said a little stiffly. “I really have to – wait, you know Gabriel?”

_ Shit _ . Crawley very nearly swallowed his bitter olive, pit and all, but the subsequent coughing fit was not enough to distract the angel. “Yes,” he confessed when he could speak again. “I met him a few times back… before the Rebellion. He wasn’t my superior or anything but. Yes. We met. He’s an ass.”

From the way Aziraphale leaned forward, this was exactly the opening he’d been waiting for. “What were you like? As an angel, I mean?”

Crawley waited for the violent flood of anger he’d felt the other times Aziraphale had brought it up. Nothing. It was as if ten days of running around in a fury had burned his anger to ashes, leaving only a dull ache.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Crawley…”

“No, I can’t, Angel. I literally can’t. I’m a demon. There are some things I can never say, some words I can never – ” Crawley was on his feet before he even realized it. He couldn’t sit still, but he found he didn’t want to walk away, either.

Aziraphale stood more slowly, as if afraid to startle him. “Things you can’t say? Such as?”

“Such as my name. I hope you didn’t think I was an angel named Crawley.” He stalked over to glare into the Garden. Realizing there was still the remains of an olive in his hand, he flung it as far as he could.

“I did think that was a bit odd.”

“I can  _ almost _ remember my name. It’s like an echo inside my brain. If anyone ever said it, I’d recognize it… and then forget the next moment.”

“Why?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face made Crawley roll his eyes.

“Because it’s Hell, Angel. It’s not a work retreat, it’s punishment.” Crawley crossed to the opposite wall and gazed into the brilliant desert. He wanted his eyes to hurt. “When we Fell, we lost everything that made us angels. My entire identity stripped away. I remember pieces. Enough. But if you expect me to talk about it… I couldn’t find the words even if I wanted to. Not ever.”

“Crawley…” He glanced over to see Aziraphale edging towards him, eyes so sad, arm stretched as if to grab his shoulder. “I never knew. I’m so sorry.”

There was a part of Crawley that wanted to take that hand, and the comfort it offered. But that wasn’t him. “Shut up.” He batted Aziraphale’s arm away with his wing. “I don’t need your pity. That was a long time ago.” He moved back to the fruit-covered leaves and resumed his seat, trying to act as though the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “I have a new identity. I’m Crawley. I’m a demon. I’m a survivor. It’s what matters now.”

“You’re happy with that?” Aziraphale still stood by the wall.

_ Happy? _ “It got me through Hell, didn’t it?” He never really thought about being  _ happy _ .

“And you have no wish to be an angel again?”

Crawley grabbed one of the remaining grapes and ate it, scowling at the piles of olives and grains. Why didn’t Aziraphale just drop it? “I know what I did,” he said when he could speak again. “And I’m not sorry at all. There’s no place for me in Heaven, and I have no desire to return.”

Aziraphale slowly returned to his own seat, deep in thought. “Before I help you, I have two more questions. And then we will never talk about it again, if that’s your wish.”

“I’m not sure I want your  _ help _ ,” Crawley pointed out sourly. Aziraphale didn’t seem to hear. “What questions?”

“First, did you kill anyone? Permanently, I mean.” He didn’t quite meet Crawley’s eyes, staring a bit to the side, at his wing instead.

“Angel, I told you, I can’t talk about – ”

“Because I lost people. Comrades. Friends. In the Rebellion. So I need to know.”

Crawley scratched at his head, turning away from those sad eyes. “I can tell you that I’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me first. Is that good enough?”

Aziraphale paused, then nodded. “Good enough. Second, do you have any regrets? Anything at all?”

“I don’t do regrets,” Crawley frowned, reaching for another grape. Then he thought. “Well, there is one. There was this time I could have punched Gabriel right in the face. I regret not doing that.”

“Crawley!” The angel looked completely scandalized, and Crawley was forced to make another heroic effort not to laugh.

“Oh, I was never especially violent, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. But I’ll never get another opportunity, and it would have been  _ nice _ .” He popped the grape in his mouth and grinned.

Aziraphale sniffed and folded his hands. “I don’t know if I should help you, after a comment like that.”

“I don’t know what you expected, asking a question like that.” Crawley tried to mimic the angel’s prim tones, but oddly he didn’t feel very annoyed. It must be the wind. He tossed his wings, stretching the black feathers to catch every tiny breeze. He had forgotten how  _ good _ this could feel. “What is it you wanted to help me with, anyway?”

“Obviously, your dilemma about your orders. You wish to remain on Earth, but you’re worried about how the new experiences will change you. You’re afraid the demon you  _ become _ will be less suited to making alliances in Hell.” He picked up one of the remaining green grapes and popped it in his mouth.

The angel was completely focused on selecting a piece of fruit from the dwindling piles, and thus missed Crawley’s look of shock. “That’s – Why would you – How did you – ” _ Ten days wandering in the desert, and he has the answer just like that? _ “That’s one way to put it, I suppose,” the demon growled as neutrally as he could. “How did you work that out?”

“Really? Oh, good.” Aziraphale’s whole face seemed to light up. He beamed at Crawley, then looked back down at the leaves before them. “I just thought,  _ snakes, shedding skin _ well, it’s all very appropriate, isn’t it? Then when you said what you did…before…about being a survivor and everything, it all fell into place.” His eyes flicked up briefly again, then back down. “I also thought about what you said. The first rule of Temptation, to understand what someone really wants. It’s probably a good rule for helping people as well.”

For the third time, Aziraphale had left him completely speechless, flooded with unnamed emotions.  _ Every time I think you’re just another hopeless, brainless angel… _ He cleared his throat. “That’s the second rule, Angel. Not the first.”

“Oh, right.” He furrowed his brow and looked up at Crawley. “Did you ever say what the first rule was?”

“What is this, an interrogation? I’m not telling you  _ all  _ my secrets.” He grabbed a few of the remaining grapes. Let the angel have the olives, if he was so fond of them. “And I suppose you were  _ mostly  _ right. Except, of course, for the part about being  _ afraid. _ Worried, yes, concerned, maybe, but I am  _ not _ afraid.”

“No, of course not,” the angel said, so seriously Crawley had to wonder if perhaps he  _ did _ know about sarcasm. “So, what can we do about your  _ concerns _ ?”

“I don’t know if there’s anything we…” He scowled. “Anything  _ I _ can do. It’s been fourteen days already. I keep thinking ‘If I decide to go back, I can just tell them I couldn’t find the humans,’ but pretty soon they’ll be able to realize I wasn’t really looking. You can’t even imagine the kind of trouble I’d get into for  _ that. _ ”

“I won’t even try,” Aziraphale assured him with a small shudder. “Do you really think being around the humans would change you a lot? I certainly feel no different, but then, as an angel the Core of my Being is not influenced by Material Concerns or Mortal Beings.”

Crawley rolled his eyes, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He was beginning to suspect that the key to tolerating Aziraphale was to ignore half of what he said and just focus on the rest. “Form shapes nature. Environment, too. Just walking around in this body, it’s starting to change me. It might even affect you, down there, off the wall. In reality.”

The angel glanced apprehensively at the desert, then shifted his wings as if to block it from sight. “So then why stay like this, if it’s changing you? Surely it’s not just for a chance to…kick sand and grow hair.”

“But it is, in a way.” Crawley gazed across the Garden. It was amazing how many shades of green could exist. “When you’re a snake you don’t get to scowl, or climb mountains, or eat grapes. It isn’t always  _ pleasant _ , but I want to experience new things.” He picked up the last black olive and put it in his mouth. It was so bitter he could hardly breathe, but somehow he managed to chew and swallow it, spitting out the pit. “Except for these. That is the last olive I will ever eat.”

Aziraphale was smiling again. “I think you have your answer.”

Crawley replayed the last few sentences in his head, and was so surprised he forgot to say something sarcastic. “Huh. I suppose I do.” He tried one of the sweeter red grapes, hoping to cancel out the taste of the olive. “Ugh, no, you were right about not mixing the flavors. That is foul.” He managed to swallow, but had a strong urge to scrape his tongue against something. “I’m not completely sold on this  _ meal _ concept.”

Aziraphale had watched all this with something surprisingly close to an impassive face. Was  _ he _ trying not to laugh? That depended on if the angel had a sense of humor at all, of course.

Crawley sighed, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows to look at the unrelenting blue sky. “But even if I know what I  _ want _ to do, it doesn’t mean it’s what I  _ should _ do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale pick up the last grape. “Yes. After all, you might come to  _ regret _ it.”

Crawley stared as he put the fruit in his mouth, not quite hiding a smile. Their eyes met, and Aziraphale gave a shy – but genuine – grin. Crawley threw his head back and laughed – just a single loud “HA!” that echoed off the walls of Eden. It felt good.

“You’re right. I don’t do regrets. I’m going to follow those humans, see what crazy things they’re up to, cause a whole lot of trouble, and not go back to Hell until they drag me down.”

“I have every confidence in you,” Aziraphale nodded.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be encouraging me in any of this.”

“I have just as much confidence that the forces of Heaven will Thwart your Evil Ways,” the angel countered without missing a beat.

Crawley sat up again, pushing with his wings for balance. “Why don’t you come as well? You can be in charge of thwarting me. Tell Heaven you’ve got word I’m up to something. They’ll get you off wall duty.”

There was a look in Aziraphale’s eyes Crawley couldn’t identify – something deep, pained, sad but with a brightness to it. “Oh, no I – I couldn’t.” Again, his eyes flicked to the wall, the Garden, anywhere but at Crawley. “I really must stay here until otherwise ordered. And the invitation is still open if you want to stay. But…I don’t think you should.”

“Is this about the sword? Honestly, if it bothers you that much, just tell them. It won’t be that bad.”

“No, it isn’t that. I just… I like being on the wall. Alone. It’s peaceful.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t fully a lie, either. Crawley wondered what the angel was trying to hide.

“I’ll try to visit if I can. Tell you about the humans.”

“I’d like that.”

And there it was: he’d made his decision. He wasn’t sure why talking had helped – nearly everything they’d discussed was something he already knew – but somehow, sitting here with Aziraphale, everything seemed clearer. Better.

He was going to miss the angel.

The thought surprised him.  _ Miss _ Aziraphale? Crawley didn’t  _ miss _ anyone. He quickly buried it in the back of his mind.

“I’m starting to think you might not be such a bad angel after all.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly, eyes dropping to study his hands.

Crawley grinned and picked up a handful of grains – there wasn’t anything else left on the leaves – and popped them in his mouth. Then immediately spat them out. “Except for your choice of food. I don’t think these are even edible.”

“No, no that plant is very important to humanity’s future. I’m quite certain of that.”

“Important, maybe, but not as a food source. These are worse than the olives.” That might be a stretch – they didn’t have much flavor at all, but it was like trying to eat a handful of rocks.

“Oh, but I was so certain,” he looked completely crestfallen.

The sun was a little less than halfway to the horizon. Still some time before sunset. “Don’t you need to patrol the wall some more?”

“I…yes, I do.” Aziraphale climbed reluctantly to his feet. He snapped his fingers and the leaves and remaining grains vanished. “I should be almost halfway around the wall by now.” He glanced up and jumped, startled to see Crawley standing beside him. “What are you…?”

“I’m patrolling with you. Obviously.” Crawley gave a half-smile. “So you can keep an eye on me. Otherwise, I might get up to Wanton Mischief of the Highest Order.”

The angel nodded seriously. “Of course. Yes. You should stay where I can see you until you leave.” He gestured to the walk ahead of them, as if there was any doubt. “This way.”

As they started along the wall, burning desert to their left and Garden to their right, Crawley studied the angel. “What happened to that branch you were carrying? Your staff of office or whatever you called it.”

“Ah. That.” Aziraphale looked embarrassed. “I had to throw it away. I kept tripping myself.”

“Pity. I was getting used to it.” He shot a glance at the startled angel, and after a moment they both laughed.

\--

As the sun set behind him in a spectacular array of colors, Aziraphale watched Crawley saunter Eastward into the night.

He still wasn’t sure he was  _ supposed _ to help demons, but this had felt right. He even thought Crawley had appreciated their time together, though it was hard to be sure, between those inscrutable eyes and that smug smirk every time he spoke.

Still, Aziraphale was sad to see him go. Eden was going to be a lot quieter now.

When he could no longer make out the red curls and black robes in the coming darkness, Aziraphale turned right and continued his patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note on "killed. Permanently.": the show generally uses "discorporated" for having the body destroyed, apparently leaving the angel/demon mostly unharmed, and "destroyed" for anything that would actually end their existence. "Killed" is used a few times, more ambiguously; there is some evidence that things which would APPEAR to be permanent death can be recovered from. I've opted to use "killed" for deaths during the Rebellion.]
> 
> Thank you again for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment below. :) Next chapter will be posted on September 7th (or possibly the night of the 6th), where we will see Crawley's final visit to the Wall...
> 
> Thank you again to my beta, kindathewholepoint, for spotting typos and providing encouragement.
> 
> And thanks to anyone who wandered over here from Tumblr! I hope it was worth clicking over for. ;)


	4. Day 2,593

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seven years, Crawley returns to the Wall of Eden.
> 
> But something has changed, in the Wall and in the Angel who has guarded it so diligently.
> 
> Has Crawley arrived too late?

DAY 2,593

\--

“Aziraphale! Oi, Angel, are you up there or not?”

Crawley shifted the bag on his shoulder. It was leather, made by the humans, not much more elaborate than the slings they used for carrying things on a daily basis, but deeper. He’d taken the darkest brown one they had, and then modified it significantly to carry his load, but hadn’t been able to change the color. Black would have suited him better. He’d never thought of himself as having a  _ look  _ before, but he’d had a lot of new thoughts lately.

“Angel! The Forces of Hell are literally  _ at your Gate!  _ Try to keep up!” Should he throw something? It was fifty feet up, and he couldn’t see it doing much good. “Aziraphale, I know you’re still there! Come on!”

The sun was already setting, the desert rapidly cooling. Surely Aziraphale had had more than enough time to walk the entire wall since he’d started calling. Crawley was just starting to wonder if the angel had, in fact, left when the familiar face appeared directly above him.

“There you are! You haven’t changed a bit. How’s the Garden?” Crawley waved furiously. He hadn’t expected to be this glad to see Aziraphale, but it was hard to keep the grin on his face under control.

“Crawley? What are you doing here?”

“New orders. I was passing through and I thought, ‘I bet that angel is still on top of that stupid wall.’ You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you.” He tried to project the right combination of mystery and excitement. Enticing, but not too forward. This was a complex job.

Aziraphale was quiet for far too long. “What’s that thing on your arm?”

Crawley didn’t like the sound of that. The angel’s  _ pretentious suspicion _ routine had always carried a certain air of conviction, even when Aziraphale was uncertain. Now he just sounded flat. Defeated. “It’s called a  _ bag _ . You use it to carry things. Look!” He pulled an item out and held it over his head.

“…A rock?” Aziraphale hazarded.

“A  _ jar _ . The humans make them! Out of mud! Genius!” Crawley let a little more grin out. That should get the angel’s attention.

“You found the humans? Wait, you  _ stole _ from the humans?”

“They’ll never notice, honest.” This was absurd. He’d run through every possible scenario for this, come up with a dozen lines designed to entice the angel’s curiosity, none of which would work if he had to  _ shout them from the bottom of the bloody wall _ . He’d forgotten how irritating Aziraphale could be.

“What else is in the bag?”

He forced himself to keep smiling. “Food, Angel. I owe you from last time. And mine is  _ actually _ edible.” Still he hesitated, until Crawley finally allowed some frustration through. “Come on. Are you going to let me up there or are we just going to scream at each other all night?”

At this distance, in the long evening shadows, he couldn’t see the hesitation all over Aziraphale’s face, but he was sure he could remember exactly what it looked like. Crawley realized he was holding his breath.

“Alright. Meet me at the East Gate.”

\--

It had been a long time since Aziraphale had seen anyone.

He didn’t think he’d changed. Probably staying on the wall had shielded him from whatever forces Crawley had claimed would alter his nature. His robes and wings were still immaculately neat. He maintained a strict patrol, rounding all sides of the wall twice per day. Every forty-five rounds, he indulged in a brief walk through the Garden.

Really, it was like no time had passed at all, if you thought about it. But for some reason, he wasn’t sure how to act around Crawley.

The demon was very different. There was an energy around him that was completely changed from before. Confidence, perhaps, though he’d never lacked that. But now, when he walked, he swayed. Swaggered. In between scowls, he grinned like the whole world was a joke and only he could see the punchline.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to think of the changes. His mind seemed slow to react to anything, which was strange, because he tested his alertness and response times every three days.

“You have no idea how good that feels,” Crawley sighed, stretching his black wings behind him. “You wouldn’t think they could get stiff while not existing, but there you are.”

“There you are.” Aziraphale shook his head. “I mean, what are you doing here?”

“Told you. New orders. Personally, I thought I was doing a great job with the humans, but someone higher up had this big passion project they wanted me on.”

“Project?” Talking felt strange.  _ Not walking _ felt strange. Half his brain seemed occupied with working out where he should be on the wall, how many steps it would take to catch up. “What kind of project?”

“Oh, they’re calling it a long con. Very hush-hush. Supposed to have a huge payoff in a few thousand years. Load of bollocks if you ask me, but it’ll take me all over. Then I was passing near here and I thought I’d see if you were still walking in your endless circle.” He gave Aziraphale one of those grins, showing far too many teeth.

His mind reeled. That was too much information. No it wasn’t, it was a very small amount of information that his mind refused to process for some reason.

Crawley leaned closer to him, peering into him with those intense golden eyes. “Are you alright, Angel? I told you I’d come back.”

“That was seven years ago, Crawley. I – I gave up after the first hundred days.”

Aziraphale wished he hadn’t said that; even the demon looked stunned. It hadn’t been so bad, really. The mindless sameness of day after day had kept him from noticing the passing of time. He’d felt peaceful. Accomplished, even – every successful round was something he’d done, on his own, exactly right. He’d done over 5,000 of them.

How many times had he imagined Gabriel, or one of his other superiors, returning to check in? How he would explain his system, how he would be applauded for his diligence at the endless task. 

But now, with someone here to talk to, he was lost in a tangle of emotions.

“I meant to come back sooner,” Crawley said softly, which was probably a lie. “Stuff happened – sit down, I’ll tell you about it.”

Aziraphale thought about objecting, but instead sank to the wall. He looked Westward, across the Garden, to where the last reds of the sunset faded away. The first brilliant stars of the night appeared overhead. Crawley settled down on his left, legs stretched out as if to take up as much room as possible, and placed the bag between them.

“You still have a fantastic view from here, Angel.”

“You changed your hair.” It was less curly, and quite a bit shorter now.

“Do you like it? I thought I’d try something new.”

It seemed he was waiting for a response. Was one supposed to have an opinion on hair? “It’s… different…” He was sure he was better at talking than this. “What’s in the bag?”

The pause went on just slightly longer than Aziraphale expected. He was sure he felt those eyes on his face, but when he turned, Crawley was digging around in the bag. “Are you ready?” He looked up with a grin. “The humans have made food  _ better _ .” He pulled from the bag something round, flat and soft that he thrust into Aziraphale’s hands. “You remember those grains you insisted were food but I didn’t believe you? This is made from them. It’s called bread.”

Aziraphale sniffed it uncertainly as Crawley began searching the bag again. It had a distinct odor, unlike anything in the Garden. “Well, go on,” the demon encouraged. “You have no idea what it took to keep these fresh for so long.”

Tugging with his fingers, Aziraphale found the bread tore easily. It was even softer inside, and so warm a puff of steam escaped into the growing night. He felt something start to tick in the back of his mind. Genuine curiosity, seeming to wake from a long sleep. “Is this…a localized time stop around the bread?”

“Around each loaf.” Crawley held one of his own, tearing a piece off. “Or it was. Switched it off, so eat before it gets cold.” He popped the piece of bread in his mouth and started chewing.

Aziraphale doubted he could create any kind of time stop, never mind one as refined as that, yet Crawley seemed to think it nothing at all. Were demonic powers just that different from angelic?

Slowly, he took a bite from his own bread. It was warm, not as if it had been left in the sun, but as if it generated its own heat; it was chewy, soft, slightly moist. Just sour enough to be noticeable. “It’s good, I think,” Aziraphale said when he swallowed. The bite of bread seemed to warm him from the inside. “How far did you say you came?”

“Very far.” Crawley pulled another bite off his bread as he talked. “If you go straight East from here, after about three days you reach a river. Huge, winding thing. Well, I lost all sign of the humans there, but I followed it anyway. So many times I thought about turning around and coming back. ‘That’s it, humans drowned, show’s over.’ But then I’d see some sign of them, plants cut down or remains of a fire, and I’d keep going. Now try this.”

Crawley pulled out one of those  _ jars _ he’d claimed was made from mud. It certainly looked like stone, but a strangely shaped one – a round, globe shape that filled Crawley’s palm, topped by a straight circle, as wide as a finger. It was white, with darker patterns scratched all over its side. Crawley also produced a disc of the same material – concave, but flat on the bottom, with a different dark pattern. He pulled something out of the circle standing on the top of the jar, and poured a thick pale-green liquid onto the disc. “It’s called olive oil.”

“How do I…?” Aziraphale reached toward it with his fingers.

“No, with the bread. Watch.” Crawley broke another piece off his bread and dipped it into the oil, letting it soak in, then placed the dripping lump in his mouth. “Now you try.”

Aziraphale did his best to imitate, though the oil dripped down his hand. When it touched his tongue, the sensation was amazing. “Two flavors!” The slight sweetness of the oil balanced the sourness of the bread perfectly. “They  _ combined _ the flavors?”

“Yes! Exactly! I told you: genius. And this is what they did with two  _ inedible _ foods. Just wait until you see what they’ve done to grapes.”

“It can’t be better than this,” Aziraphale insisted, breaking off more bread. “This is remarkable. So you found the humans eventually?”

Crawley nodded, pouring another disc of olive oil for himself. “About twenty-five days of walking, non-stop, down the river. Get this, have you noticed that sticks and things float on water? Well, they’d lashed a whole bunch of fallen trees together and sat on top of them – rode hundreds of miles downstream in just a few days.”

“I don’t believe it.” Aziraphale realized he’d run out of bread. Crawley handed him another.

“I’ve seen it. They’ve done it three more times since I started watching. Brilliant way to travel, except for the crocodiles. Well, there’s lions on land, so I suppose it’s all the same. But that’s humans for you. Every day they run into a problem, and find some solution you’d never expect.”

“Crawley,” Aziraphale lowered his bread, trying to eat it more slowly. “I will admit that the food is very impressive, but surely you’re overstating things. I can’t imagine why.”

“Overstating, am I?” He reached into the bag again, retrieving another mud-made vessel. This one was red, deep and wide, with a small opening jutting out from the front. He poured in some oil and snapped his fingers. A spark fell from his hand into the front opening, and all at once the wall was lit by a warm steady glow, as if the vessel had captured a star. “On a related note, I don’t think you’re getting that sword back.”

Aziraphale barely heard him. He stared at that tiny flame, enraptured. “They’ve tamed fire?”

“Completely domesticated it.” The angel glanced up to see Crawley gazing into the flame with a fond smile, something Aziraphale had never seen on the demon’s face before. “That’s not even the best of it. Last I saw, they had these little baby wolves, following them around like they were best friends. Wolves, Angel!” He shook his head.

“And…the humans?” Aziraphale had tried not to think about them – or Crawley, or anything at all – for the last seven years. But all the talking was drawing something out of him. He couldn’t stop listening, didn’t want to. “What were they actually like?”

“Like I said, they’re clever. Too clever.” He scowled again. “The first few years, I was mostly lurking around the edges of wherever they camped, doing what I could without interacting with them directly. If I ever approached, they could tell I was there to cause trouble. Like they could recognize me, even in this body.”

Aziraphale slowly chewed a bit of oil-soaked bread, trying to find words to describe the flavor. He wasn’t really thinking at all when he said, “You know, I’m just speculating here, but it might have been your eyes that tipped them off.”

“Yes,  _ thank you, Angel _ , I never would have worked that out.”

“I was just trying to be helpful,” Aziraphale said a little stiffly. But he worried Crawley would stop talking, so he quickly prompted: “What changed? After the first few years.”

“Ah,” Crawley grinned again, though Aziraphale wasn’t certain he liked this one. Wasn’t certain he liked any of the grins. “That’s when the young humans started getting big enough for me to talk to. Soon enough I was following them around everywhere. Like their imaginary friend.”

“You were Tempting young humans? That sounds horrible.”

“But I wasn’t – that’s the thing. They would come up with the most incredible ideas all on their own. ‘Hey, I’m going to steal my brother’s sandals and fill them with frog spawn. Then I’ll put goat butter between his blankets. Why? I don’t know, it sounds funny!’ All I had to do was say, ‘Sure thing, kid, sounds great. Go for it.’”

“Oh.” Aziraphale felt a sinking sensation, and wasn’t sure he could finish his bread. “It sounds like they’ve been pretty thoroughly corrupted.”

“That’s the part you won’t believe.” Crawley leaned back and looked up at the stars. “They’d pull the most remarkably petty stunts for the most vindictive reasons. Then they’d turn around and forgive each other, just as easily, every time. Of course, that just meant we could get up to something even worse the next day, but…” He looked across the captive fire with that inscrutable gaze. “I don’t know, Aziraphale. I don’t think my side has them completely. Not yet, anyway.”

It felt as if an enormous weight had been removed from Aziraphale’s shoulders. Something warm rushed in to take its place. “I…thank you.” He tried to smile at Crawley, but found he had to keep pulling his eyes away. “I didn’t even realize how much I had been worrying about that.”

“I did.” The warmth grew even stronger. Suddenly, Aziraphale could only trust himself to look at the tiny fire.

After a moment, Crawley started rustling through the bag again. “Anyway, not too long ago a group of angels found the humans. Supposed to be all secretive, but they didn’t like me hanging around. One of them got a little heavy on the smiting, so I contacted my superiors and here I am.” He handed Aziraphale another open jar, this one with a strange, sharp scent. “This is the best one. You drink it.”

Aziraphale quickly took a swallow, and almost regretted it. The drink burned all the way down his throat, making him cough frantically, and hit his stomach like a small burst of pleasure. “That,” he gasped when he could, “is extraordinary! What is it?”

“Alcohol!” Crawley grinned again and took a drink from his own jar. “It’s mainly grapes, but I don’t even know what the rest is. If you drink too much, it’s like a kick in the head, but in a good way.”

The second mouthful went down easier, and Aziraphale was able to enjoy the flavor. “You might be right. I think this is the best.”

“The humans drink it at night, around the fire – bigger fire than this. And they make music! It’s like,” Crawley slapped his hand against the jar in an awkward rhythm, “only better. And then they get up and move to it like this.” The demon leapt to his feet and began stepping, and turning, and occasionally  _ gyrating _ in the most undignified way. Aziraphale found it shocking, disturbing, and only a little intriguing.

Just as abruptly, Crawley sat down again. “It’s so much fun. I mean, you’d hate it, but it’s really something.” Crawley gave that smug little half smile, and Aziraphale found himself laughing, just a little.

For a time, they sat and drank in silence. The stars burned overhead, cut through by the clouds of the Milky Way. In the Garden below, crickets and frogs had started their nightly chorus, a growing bubble of high, delicate chirps, beautiful in its chaos.

It really was quite lovely here. Aziraphale hadn’t noticed that in a long time.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” he wondered. “Your new identity, or however you put it?”

“I don’t know.” Crawley gazed ahead and took another drink. “Maybe. Or maybe I just found more of the same me, you know?”

Aziraphale had no idea what that might mean. “Are you happy?”

Crawley smiled – not smugly, or arrogantly, or with that manic gleam he’d had for much of the evening. Just a warm smile that reached all the way to those slit-pupil eyes. “You know, sometimes, I think I am.”

Aziraphale smiled back, but his face grew warm, and he turned back to the Garden. “I think you’re right about the kick to the head,” he said, finishing his jar of alcohol. He could still feel those eyes on him.

“I almost couldn’t find you.” Aziraphale half glanced toward him, but still couldn’t meet those eyes. “When I left the river, it took far longer than it should to find the wall. You know what that means.”

“Well, it _could_ mean the Garden is drifting further from reality.” He wished he still had some of the alcohol left. “Or it could mean your sense of direction isn’t as good as you think.”

“You need new orders.”

“Crawley, no. We’ve been over this before. My role is to guard this wall – ”

“It’s been seven years, Angel. Have your superiors checked in? Even once?”

“Well, no. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.” It didn’t sound convincing even to him.

“Really? They didn’t contact you when I got into the Garden. They didn’t contact you when the humans left. Or when they assigned a whole squad of angels to watch over their camp. So what’s it going to take? What are they waiting for?”

He had no answer for that, staring stubbornly ahead.

“Aziraphale.” Slowly, he turned to face the demon. He hadn’t realized he’d pulled his wings closer, but he could still see Crawley’s face through the white feathers. “The wall isn’t the only thing fading. It’s like you’re barely here at all. What do you think will happen to you when the Garden leaves reality?”

“If you’re right,” he started slowly, “and I’m not saying you are. If you’re right, I would cease to exist as an independent, sapient entity. I would walk the wall for eternity, without enough self-awareness left to even know what I was doing. If you’re right.”

“You’ve had seven years of that already.” Crawley spread his own wings, gesturing the length of the wall. “Can you truly tell me that’s what you  _ want _ ? Is it?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say  _ of course it is. _ Or something about following orders. Obedience. Discipline. “I really want… to try more foods.” It shocked him even as he said it. “To see the humans for myself. To find out if the music is as bad as you described.” He tried to smile at his joke. “But you know. Even knowing what I  _ want _ to do, doesn’t mean it’s what I  _ should _ do.”

“What’s stopping you? Is it still the sword? Because it’s not worth this.”

“No, not exactly. Although, what did you say happened? Do they still have the sword?”

“Eh, yeah, about that.” Crawley scowled, hunching his own wings a bit. “It’s gone a bit  _ metaphysical _ . Happens when you give mortals a supernatural item, doesn’t it? Anyway, like I said, you’re not getting that back. But at least the other angels didn’t seem aware of it.”

“That’s probably just as well.” For a long time he sat there, listening to the sounds of the night. Trying not to think. He kept waiting for the demon to lose patience and start muttering and stomping around. But it was Aziraphale who broke first. “Do you know what my last order was?”

“I don’t know. Presumably, ‘stand here and guard this wall’?”

Aziraphale slid his feet towards himself until he could rest his arms on his knees. His wings pulled in even closer, until everything around him was white feathers, except for a sliver of the Garden straight ahead. “I contacted Gabriel to update him. Seven years ago, before you ever arrived. He told me to stop wasting his time. That if he wanted an update, he’d come and ask for one himself. I was to stay here, guard the wall, and not contact him for any reason.”

That was a summary, at least. Leaving out all the parts where Gabriel questioned his ability to follow even so simple a task. And the suggestions as to what consequences Aziraphale would face if he failed.

“That’s it?” Aziraphale flung back his wings and turned to find the demon glaring furiously at him. “He told you not to contact him and you just  _ gave up _ ? My superiors tell me to go away all the time, and I don’t spend seven years  _ moping _ about it.”

“I’m not moping, I’m an  _ angel _ . I can’t disobey a direct order.”

Crawley threw his head back and groaned. “ _ Orders _ .” For a moment Aziraphale thought he was going to argue. Crawley took a long drink from his jar, finishing every drop. When he spoke again, his voice was surprisingly low. “Alright. Fine. You have  _ orders _ . Don’t contact Gabriel. But you can call one of your other superiors. Maybe leave him a message. Just prompt him to come check on you.”

“I have thought of that,” Aziraphale admitted slowly. The tiny fire glinted off Crawley’s unblinking eyes as he swayed slowly in the darkness. “But I can’t just call them up. I need something to report.”

“Surely you can think of something.” There was something hypnotic in Crawley’s voice, so softly spoken. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. “You must know something they need to know.”

“I suppose I could tell them where the humans are, though if they’ve sent a squad they must know already.” Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “They might not know how the humans are getting around on the river. If the Garden is fading of its own accord, Heaven might not know about that either.” The demon’s face was unreadable. “And I suppose…I could tell them that I know Hell is up to some elaborate Scheme. That might get their attention. But I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“What’s the worst that happens? You get a lecture, get sent back to wall guard training? You still get out of here. And if they like what you say…”

“I can ask to be reassigned.” The wonder of it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

“Whatever job you like.”

“I’ve never been able to request an assignment before.” He laughed a little. “I don’t know what I’d pick!”

“Don’t you?” A smile played at the edge of the demon’s mouth.

“Hang on,” Aziraphale shook his head to clear it, and tried to give Crawley a cold look. “Are you trying to Tempt me?”

“Am I?” The demon blinked innocently. “Old habits, I suppose. Still, it’s not a terrible idea, is it? Better than waiting here for all eternity.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Aziraphale climbed to his feet and walked to the edge of the wall, the steep drop down to the Garden. “It’s either that or wait until you come past again.” There was a strange hope that he had to struggle to keep out of his voice.

“Aziraphale…” He turned to find the demon shaking his head. Crawley blew out the tiny fire, and suddenly his expression was hidden. “This job… it’s going to take me very far away. I won’t be in the area again for a hundred and fifty or two hundred years. Probably more. And by that time, I’ll have met up with other demons working on the same project.” The dark shadow began collecting the mud-made vessels, putting them into the bag. “Even if the wall doesn’t fade, this is the last time I can visit.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stared across the starlit Garden, wondering at the way his stomach seemed to grow small and cold inside him.

“I’ll send a message to Heaven. First thing in the morning.”

“Well, that settles that.” Crawley straightened up, shouldering his bag. “I’ll be on my way.”

“Must you?”

“Angel, if there’s going to be an Archangel showing up, I don’t intend to be within a hundred miles of this wall. I’m fairly certain there was one in that group following the humans, and that’s as close as I want to come ever again.”

“Are all demons this afraid of Archangels?” Aziraphale blurted out.

Even in the darkness, he could feel that glare. For a long moment, Aziraphale thought he was going to shout, or insult him, or confess some dark secret. Anything. Instead, he turned and strode away. “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.” The black wings and robe quickly disappeared in the night.

It couldn’t end like this.

“Crawley, wait!” Had the footsteps paused? “I thought you might like to…take a walk with me.” Silence. “In the Garden. For old time’s sake?”

He held his breath waiting.

Then a soft voice in the darkness. “I’d like that.”

Smiling without reserve, Aziraphale hurried to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: "It's gone a bit metaphysical." The flaming sword is becoming something a bit...abstract, something less concrete that exists within the mind of humanity, just as the bites of the apple have become knowledge, self-awareness and free will. What the sword has become is up for debate ;) but at least it isn't detectable by occult/ethereal presences. As a bonus, this is a Terry Pratchett reference, if anyone can recognize it.]
> 
> Thank you again for reading! If you enjoyed it, I would love to hear from you. :)
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta reader, kindathewholepoint, for spotting my typos and checking my logic.
> 
> One final chapter remains - come back next week for the conclusion and denouement!
> 
> Update: I’ve added a story, “The Dark of Eden,” taking place between chapters 4 and 5. Find out what Crowley and Aziraphale talked about on their last night!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel and demon have parted ways, Crawley for his mysterious mission, and Aziraphale to try and convince his superiors to reassign him. We finally learn the truth of why Aziraphale has been alone on the wall all this time.

DAY 2,597

\--

Crawley finally reached the end of the desert. He’d spent the morning awkwardly scrambling down cliffs, but now he stood on the rocky shore as waves crashed at his feet. The ocean stretched as far as he could see in every direction.

“This is stupid,” he said to the endless waters. “The humans were much more interesting.”

Sitting on a large rock, he dug into his bag for another jar of alcohol. He hadn’t revealed how many he was really carrying – drinking with the Angel had been fun and all, but if he was going to be wandering the Earth for a couple centuries, he would need a few pick-me-ups.

Aziraphale.

Crawley closed his eyes and thought back to that night, walking through the dark of Eden. Had he forgotten – or had he never noticed before – how Aziraphale would get overwhelmed with emotions and struggle to keep eye contact? Or the way his entire face lit up when he found something new to enjoy? Probably not – there hadn’t been much to enjoy those first days.

Well, he’d be in touch with Heaven by now. Back to Home Office or sent to the humans or some other assignment. At least he’d be off the wall. It had eaten away at Crawley for years, knowing he was still up there. Convincing him to make the call had been the most elaborate Temptation Crawley had undertaken in a very long time.

“That’s my good deed for the millennium,” he said firmly, though he shuddered to think what Hell would say to the idea. Perhaps now he could forget the Angel and get to the job at hand.

He snapped his fingers, then emptied the bag – not of the jars stolen from the humans, but the first delivery ordered by Hell. Enormous bones tumbled out in a pile, more than the bag could conceivably hold, ending with a skull longer than Crawley’s arm. He glanced at the drawing of the intended arrangement.

“Who designed this mess?” he muttered, turning the page one way and another. “It doesn’t look anything like a giant bird.” He snapped his fingers again, making a few changes to the diagram. “If I do this, they might mistake it for a giant lizard.” It still didn’t look very convincing to him.

By evening he had all the fossilized bones arranged deep in the cliff face, where they’d be uncovered after an earthquake several thousand years in the future. He added several unrelated bones and a large number of seashells, as per instructions.

After checking off the first location on the list, he flipped through page after page – thousands of locations, all around the world. Fossilized bones, footprints embedded in rock, and a hundred variations on trilobites.

“This had better be one good practical joke, because I am  _ not _ seeing it.”

Finishing his alcohol, he smashed the jar among the rocks and headed up the coast to the next location.

How long until he saw Aziraphale again? Not before this job was finished, that much was certain. And no telling where, if the stupid angel couldn’t manage a proper reassignment when he got off the wall.

He’d check with the humans first, of course. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too hard to track down. They’d probably have more foods to try by then. Maybe new forms of alcohol. They could try them out together, he and Aziraphale.

Crawley just needed something really clever to say when he found him again. “So. Giving the mortals a flaming sword. How’d that work out for you?”

It needed some work. He had time.

\--

DAY 2,598

\--

They’d had more than enough time.

It had taken Aziraphale most of a day to carve the necessary glyphs into the walkway atop the wall, using a sharp stone he’d found. Then, with the connection achieved, he’d explained that he had information to relay to his superiors. After that came the waiting.

He tried patrolling the wall, but he got anxious if he couldn’t see the faintly glowing glyphs. He tried sitting beside them with appropriately heavenly patience, but even that ran short.

He needed something to distract himself with. He wished Crawley were here.

No he didn’t. That was the most fantastically foolish thing he could wish for. A demon? On the wall of Paradise on Earth? There would be too many questions. Paperwork.  _ Repercussions _ . Not to mention the awful, tasteless jokes and unnecessary smirks every time he tried to be a bit serious. No, he knew plenty of angels who would be far better, not to mention more appropriate company. He should imagine them here instead.

He wished Crawley were here.

Aziraphale stood, looking Eastward across the desert. The sun would rise soon. The fourth sunrise since he contacted Heaven. What was taking so long?

“Well, look at that! Someone was here after all.”

Aziraphale spun to find himself facing the Archangel Gabriel, tall, confident, and smiling with good-natured humor. His white robe somehow made Aziraphale’s look worn and tattered, and his brilliant, flame-colored wings seemed almost to outshine the sun.

Another angel. Aziraphale found he was blinking back tears. It had been too long.

“The Principality Aziraphale checking in,” he said, standing to attention, pride filling his voice. “I’m pleased to report there have been no incursions or attacks on the Wall since – ”

“We know.”

“You – you know?” Aziraphale felt himself deflate.

“Oh, yes. The humans are at least a thousand miles away. No threats to the wall there.” Gabriel leaned forward with a just-between-us grin. “To be honest, I forgot there was anyone still here. Bit unnecessary at this point, don’t you think?”

“I…it…” Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying to find the worlds. Any words. It was a struggle to keep smiling.

Gabriel clapped his hands so sharply that Aziraphale flinched. “It’s a good thing you checked in when you did. We’re about to pull the Garden out of reality entirely. Would not have been a good place to be standing, am I right?”

Aziraphale looked into that beaming face and forced himself to take a breath. “I’m…sorry. Did you say you forgot I was here?”

“Everyone was supposed to be recalled. Your notice must have slipped through the cracks.” He slapped Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Won’t happen again, though! We’re really tightening up the paperwork. Everything accounted for, from now on.”

“Oh, that’s…good…” Aziraphale could hardly concentrate on what he was hearing. “I’m sorry. Again. But. No one in my platoon noticed I was gone?”

“We did think it was a bit quiet,” Gabriel admitted with a shrug.

_ Crawley was right _ . Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he even kept standing, when everything hurt so much. Gabriel was saying something about the legions being divided up for specialized assignments, but he knew the truth. Aziraphale had been forgotten.

“ –  _ that _ border with the flaming swords, and now they stay well back.”

“What?” Hopefully Gabriel would think his voice was shrill from the excitement of the story.

“A bit of violence to keep the demons in line, it’s all they respect. Honest fighting, like back in the Rebellion. Those were the days, right?” Aziraphale still couldn’t think about fighting in the Rebellion without feeling a sudden panic, so he just gave something approximating a smile. “Still, we don’t expect any major conflict for a very long time. Both sides are focused on Earth now, and the humans. It’s the new war, the war for souls!” Gabriel looked genuinely excited at the idea.

“Right. The humans.” Aziraphale was glad to find his voice was mostly steady. “So I – ”

“Oh, that reminds me. You were re-issued your sword for defense of the wall, right?”

The moment had come. Aziraphale prepared himself to confess everything. “Yes. I was.”

Gabriel nodded. “Most of those have been recalled, except for use on the front lines. Too flashy. Yours was a special case, though. Hold on to it, but keep it out of sight.”

Slowly, Aziraphale closed his mouth.  _ That’s it? _ It was almost too lucky a chance. Perhaps he should say something. Clarify things. “Where… will I be assigned?”

“We’ll have to find something a bit more suitable for your qualifications." He shrugged, flaming wings flashing out in gusts of flame. "I mean, seven years without a single report? Doesn’t look good, does it?”

This was too much. “You specifically told me not to report. That I was to wait to be contacted.”

Gabriel blew out a breath and shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember saying something like that.”

“But…I was sure…” Aziraphale could still picture the look on Gabriel’s face as he’d berated him.  _ Don’t waste my time with this meaningless drivel! You have one job – stand here and look at the desert until I get back. I hope that’s not too complicated for you because there is literally not a simpler job in the entire universe. _

Had he misunderstood? Had the years alone warped his memory of his last orders somehow? 

Was this his mistake?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t worry. I mean, it’s a pretty big error on your part, but I’m sure we’ll find something that you’re competent at eventually.”

“I was hoping… I might help watch over the humans?” Until he said it, he had no idea how much he wanted it. Had it been Crawley’s stories that put the idea in his head? Or had it been there since the day he handed over his sword, and told them to keep surviving?

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. We need our  _ best _ angels for that job.” Gabriel put his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. It should have been warm and friendly. It wasn’t. “Is that really you? If we’re honest?”

“My time…here…on the wall…” The tears were back in his eyes.

“Doesn’t count for much. What really happened? Hmm? A demon got in, the humans got out. Then a whole lot of nothing.” He laughed as if sharing a joke. “Vacation’s over, though. We’ll get you back into fighting shape.”

Maybe he should stay on the wall. Disappear from reality. Would anyone even notice he was gone?

Crawley would.

And with that, he knew exactly how to get his reassignment.

“Actually,” he took a deep breath, stepping away from Gabriel and projecting confidence. “I have Information that will be of interest to our People here. There is a demon – an Agent of Hell – at large in the area. He’s passed close by the Garden several times, most recently just a few days ago.”

“I thought I smelled brimstone.” Gabriel sniffed deeply. “Figured it must be all that organic matter – ” he waved dismissively at the Garden “ – giving off an odor. But if there’s been a demon in the area, that’s a different story.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Gabriel could actually detect anything, but he rushed on before he could lose his steam. “Yes. The demon – Crawley – is a very Cunning and… Wily Adversary. I last saw him heading West, but I have reason to believe he lived among the humans for years. Disguised of course. He may even have attempted to Corrupt the younger humans.”

“Uriel did say there was a suspicious demonic figure lurking around, but no one was able to get a good look. Can you provide a description?”

“Oh, yes. He has two forms, humanoid and giant serpent. I have plenty of information to share.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Gabriel beamed with something like pride. “If you were able to find out all that while on the wall, you may be good for something after all. He didn’t notice you, did he?”

“I was…very subtle.”

Aziraphale ordered himself not to feel bad for betraying Crawley. He was a demon. It didn’t count.

“Excellent! Well, the humans are camped about twelve hundred miles that way – ” Gabriel’s gesture took in a broad arc of desert, nearly everything from North to Southeast “ – head over to them and report to the angels on the scene. We’re setting up a rotation, but if your information is as good as you say, there might be a permanent assignment.” His tone suggested this was extremely unlikely.

“That sounds… yes, thank you.”

“Better get walking.” Gabriel nodded to the sun, which now stood a finger width above the horizon. “At midday the Garden is set to disappear, and you won’t want to be within ten miles of it then. Unless you want me to arrange a celestial shortcut?”

“No, actually, I’d – I’d rather walk. Learn the lay of the land.”

Already preparing to leave, Gabriel gave another brilliant smile. “That’s what I like to hear.” Two more pairs of flaming wings unfurled, spread wide, as if to outshine all the glory of Eden. “And don’t lose track of that sword!”

And then he vanished.

Aziraphale was alone again. There was the usual rush of miserable self-doubt he always felt after talking to Gabriel, but after that he felt strangely peaceful. Energized, even. He could hardly comprehend the possibilities before him, all that could result from this assignment.

But first, there was one thing he wanted to try.

He stretched his wings one last time and turned Northeast.

\--

DAY 2,600

\--

The mountains were easy to find. They reared above the desert sand, taller than the walls of Eden. Jagged. Imperfect.

Beautiful.

The trees that grew on the outcrop three hundred feet up were twisted, stunted things compared to those that grew in the Garden, but they had a wild strength all their own. One grew almost sideways, struggling to find the single small patch of sunlight the others let through.

The fruits didn’t look like he remembered, either. Smaller, with a patchy red and green skin. Little brown or white speckles here and there. They seemed to be ripe.

The first bite of the apple was tart, juicy, almost overwhelming.

Aziraphale smiled and twisted one more off the tree for the journey. It would be a long walk, but he was used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: Gabriel's wings - the highest ranked angels have four (cherubim) or six (seraphim and Archangels) wings. However, they can choose to manifest just the standard single pair of wings.]
> 
> Thank you for reading! This was the final chapter of "Early Days" but don't worry - "Sawdust of Words" will still return next Saturday with a standalone story. If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment below! Thank you all again for coming along for this ride - I've really enjoyed sharing this story with you!
> 
> As always, thanks to my beta reader kindathewholepoint for spotting typos! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave any comments below, and look for the next chapter on Saturday.


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